All That I Need
by Your Destructive Fever
Summary: Everything about him makes my breath hitch and every time I see him, I notice it more." Sirius is having problems getting Remus out of his head. He wants fireworks - simple, really. RemusSirius
1. Chapter 1

**If owned Harry Potter, the world would be a slightly more depraved place. ****With all hope, at least.**

He doesn't know what he does to me. Him with his fuck-me wrists and innocent eyes, a paradox of sex and naivety. He doesn't even notice what he's doing to me now, standing in front of me with a friendly smile, his closeness making my heart beat that little bit faster, his scent intoxicating my lungs.

"Hey Sirius," he says, Two words. Hey and Sirius. Just two small words which are so guileless, so carelessly said yet to me they ooze allurement and quixotic him.

"Remus!" I reply quickly, "what brings you to a place like this?" How smooth. As if he needs further reason to doubt my ever fading sanity. He smiles though, smiles as if he finds me funny, as if he's supposed to, he smiles and it makes me smile right back.

"Hogwarts Express, actually." He grins.

"What?" I say, "I didn't know it ran during the school year. Did you commandeer it for your own nefarious deeds? You know, Moony, that's frowned upon in civilised society. People can get in trouble for piracy."

Great. Now I have an image of a swarthy, swash-buckling Remus in my head. Ten galleons to whoever can guess what I'll be dreaming of tonight. He however, seems not to notice my discomfort, he laughs and sits down beside me and that's good except for the fact that he's so close that he's almost touching me and my breath is hitching and good grief how can he not notice what he does to me? I'm obvious about it. I know I am. James knows. Evans knows. Merlin, even Snivellus knows. And Peter – well, Peter's and idiot, but buggering bludgers, McGonagall knows for crying out loud! How can he not know? He's not like Peter. He's smart. So smart. And he's talking again and I can't begin to even comprehend what he's saying because his presence has stolen my concentration and how can he not know when I'm such a bumbling dolt around him? Then again, I didn't realise for ages myself, even with the way he affects me. James once said that it took one day for me to fall for Remus, but three years to notice that I had.

He's stopped speaking. He's evidently awaiting a reply. Bollocks. I panic. What was he saying? Something about studying, I think. When it doubt, always answer with a senseless, non-descript statement.

"Don't be ridiculous, Nicholas." Bad choice of senseless, non-descript statement.

"My name's not Nicholas, Padfoot," he says with a quirk of his eyebrow and the beginnings of a smile. Well at least it stopped him realising my lack of listening.

"That's hardly the point, is it?" I reply.

"Well it sort of is," he responds, "it's like calling me Edmund or Carlton or something."

"Edmund's a poufter's name." Balls. What a dumb thing to say.

"I guess it's rather apt then," he says, quite factually as if he were merely commenting on the weather.

I freeze. And think. Is he saying what I think he's saying? I ask. He is.

"Oh," I say. Sometimes, my extraordinary wit astounds even me. The inner me is panicking and celebrating and is so on the brink of crashing down due to this latest revelation that it hurts. I'm overwhelmed with wondering if this means I would have a chance with him.

"Surely you knew," he's saying. I surely didn't. I shrug, non-commitedly.

"You don't mind, do you?" he continues, "I didn't think you would. I figured if you were okay with the whole werewolf thing that this" he gestures, waving his hands to signify himself, "wouldn't even be a blip on the radar of acceptance or whatever. I just doubted my sexuality was as big a deal as my lycanthropy. But well, is it, like a big deal or well, a problem, or ummm. I...well. "

He's rambling. And nervous. And he's biting his lip and looking at me with wide and cautious eyes. This is probably the most opportune time to tell him how I feel. The best chance I'll ever get to tell him calmly, suavely and distinctly how I feel and to make him understand what he means to me. But I can't find the words. I'm completely tongue-tied. A rather disconcerting feeling, if I do say so myself. And we sit in silence for a while, him gazing at me with a sad look on his face and it hurts me so much that eventually I can't take it anymore so I jump to my feet. And I grab his arms and I take him up with me. And now he's wearing that shocked look and it's utterly adorable because it's him and then...well, then I pounce. I lunge. I make my move. And all of a sudden I'm pushing him against a wall and telling him everything, in complete contrast to my prior loss of speech. I'm pushing and thrusting against him whilst my hands accost his waist and my mouth roughly caresses his neck and breathlessly speaks all the mortifying things I can't keep inside any longer.

"Oh good god, Remus," I say, "Remus. Remus, Remus, Remus. You don't know how much I've wanted to do this, but I was so scared, fuck I'm still terrified but I have hope. Hope you gave me. Hope, hope, hope. You're gay and I'm gay. So gay. I'm gay and I'm bloody crazy about you. And I've just got to tell you now and it's your fault for giving me this dratted hope because now I know you're gay and you have to understand, you do, you have to get it. Not that I thought you wouldn't understand if you were straight," oh Merlin, I'm babbling, he's going to think I'm entirely unhinged and yet I still continue, "because you would have, because you're you. You couldn't not have. You're so polite, you know, and so moral. Damn it, you're so polite that I can't believe you haven't drowned in a sea of your own gentleman like conduit of decency and chivalry and of course, politeness."

And I hope he can understand what I'm trying to explain, behind my mindless ranting, because I sure can't. And I hope I'm not frightening him but I can't stop myself and I push even harder against him and I'm sliding my hands up inside his shirt and touching that fucking chest of his that I've dreamt of for so long, tracing the raised plateau of his scars with my fingers. And all the while, I keep spewing forth my word vomit as I badly articulate my thoughts.

"You're too good for me, you know. And you're not good for me, at all, or even right for me and you're not the one I need but bugger you're the one that I want so badly, that it makes me need you more than anything."

And what I'm saying, it's not logical, but he's moaning as I nuzzle into him and I can feel the vibrations of his throat as I hold my lips to it and I'm so close to wholly losing control because this Remus.

Fucking Remus. Fucking Remus and his fucking wrists and his fucking everything and then he pushes me away. And I let him. And he then looks at me with those eyes of his for what seems to be an age before pulling me back to him and kissing me.

Remus is kissing me. Remus is kissing me and I'm relieved and amazed and disappointed because there were no fireworks. It was a kiss. An extraordinary, incredible, unbelievable kiss but nonetheless it was just that, a kiss. Yet it was so much more than that at the same time, because it's also a promise. Of future fireworks. And for now, that's all I need.

**What are your thoughts on the fluctuating state of the stock markets in the modern world? && Review please? **


	2. Chapter 2

**I'd like my reviewers to know that I ****lub**** each and every one of them very much and I greatly appreciate their thoughts**** on the fluctuating stock market of the modern world. Thank you. **

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When I woke up this morning I had bruises sketched out along the planes of my pelvis bone, you know, right where it juts out. I'm swiftly reminded of how I got them, the vicious thrust of my bones hitting out against Remus's. They mar my skin and look so completely unreal, almost as if someone painted purples and blue myriads of colour on my hips whilst I was sleeping. Nonetheless, I'm grateful for them because at least they reassure me that I didn't just dream up last night. It was real. And I don't think any so real yet, paradoxically and inherently unrealistic has ever happened to me before. I'm scared today's going to be unbearably awkward. Because of me. Because of me screwing up. It's always because of me. Me and my own distinguished blend of stupidity. And this is me trying to stay optimistic. 

I panicked yesterday. James walked in on us, moulded together as we were and I panicked and ran, like the fucking five year old twerp that I am. Stupid, really. It's not as if James doesn't already know how I feel about Remus. And now Remus is going to think I was ashamed or that I regret it and shit, fuck and double buggery I'm not and I don't! I was just overwhelmed. I hate James. Which is probably highly irrational but he destroyed that moment, that one moment that was just purely mine and Remus's, that moment in which the rest of the world didn't exist and Remus and I were so together in our solitude. Which makes more sense to me then it ought to. I truly resent James for it, even though I still retain full usage of all my faculties and they're telling me that he isn't at fault.

I slept in the Room of Requirement last night. And just because I could, I showered in the Prefect's bathroom – password courtesy of Remus. Back, of course, when he didn't hate me. Because I'm sure he does. I hate me. And this self-deprecating frustration is beginning to annoy me. Damn it, James! I feel so useless right now. It's like I'm tenuously flailing in this world that's beyond me and all because I screwed up yesterday. And that's ridiculous, yeah? And probably just a little bit of an over-reaction but still, it's Remus and he's sort of the focus of my entire world, if you excuse the melodrama. But he is. He's all I can wrap my mind about and all I want to wrap my arms around too, for that matter. Maybe he'll understand that I panicked. It's Remus, of course he'll understand. Maybe I don't deserve for him to understand. Whatever. I need him to. I think that means I've got to go find him...and talk to him.

I find him in the Common Room, along with James and Peter. It's now that I appreciate today's weighty status of being Saturday, it means no lessons to get in the way of whatever's going to occur between the two of us, if anything.

"Sirius!" he exclaims upon seeing me, evidently he's not ignoring me then, "we thought you had died when you didn't come back to the dorms last night," he continued with a grin, but I can see he's worried. Worried about me?

"I did die," I reply, also with a grin, "but I'm feeling much better this morning, thank you." He laughs but I can tell it's for James and Peter's benefit more than anything else. His eyes beseech mine searchingly. I guess he trying to gauge an explanation for my behaviour last night and my subsequent veritable flight of escape that would've put any professional Quidditch player to shame. I just realise now that after I made my leave last night Remus was left to deal with James's questions. I really am an insurmountable arse. Again, I find myself relieved that James already knows about my apparent homosexuality and unabashed obsession of Remus. I think he knew before I really did. He would've been incredibly pissed off if he found out only by seeing Remus and me going at it against a wall. He always is when he finds out something about me that I didn't tell him personally. James now winks at me, joking and in doing so silently communicates that everything's alright. I can't believe that a mere pittance of minutes earlier I thought I hated him, I really quite love him – in a purely platonic way, needless to say.

"Alright Sirius?" chimed James, beaming massively.

"Alright," I reply, "you?"

"Never better," he quips back, "typical timing by the way Padfoot, me and Petey Boy were just about to bugger off for a few hours and...oh, I dunno, hang out in the kitchens or something."

"We were?" enquires Peter, his surprise reflected on that otherwise blank face of his.

"Yeah," says James, "we were." And with that I watch James get up, he sends another wink my way before he leaves the Common Room with Peter trailing behind him like an obedient pet. I don't get that, you know? Why Peter's so subservient. I almost look down on him for it but then I feel guilty and pity him and then adding more confusion to my head, I feel guilty for pitying him. I guess it's because I'd rather be looked down on then pitied, I can't stand pity. It's demeaning in a way. I also don't get why James let's Peter be commanded. He shouldn't treat him like that but at this very moment in time, I'm quite glad for it because it gets rid of the two of them and leaves me with Remus. James's intentions were so blatantly clear. Even to a dolt like me his intentions were clear. He wants to give me and Remus 'space'.

"Remus," I say, at the exact same time he says, "Sirius." But I continue.

"Let me go first," I uttered, before he did, "Remus, I'm sorry. I just, I just got scared."

"I get that," he replies, nodding. And honestly, I actually think he does, "Sirius, I understand." And I still believe he does, "Last night was a big deal for both of us, after all. And you didn't give me a chance to say this last night but as it happens, I'm rather crazy about you too."

Is it possibly to internally explode from pure ecstasy?

"I hope that's alright with you," he says and he's grinning at me now and it's so very intoxicating. I grin back, I can't but grin back.

"Tell me last night wasn't just a once off," he practically demands of me.

"Last night wasn't just a once off," I reply diligently.

"Good. Now tell me when I kiss you, you won't run away."

"I won't run away."

"Good." He stands up after this comment and he starts to hesitantly bridge the gap between us. He shouldn't be so confident at this. That's normally my territory. He's moving far too slowly for my liking but for the life of me I can't hurry up the process. I'm frozen. I'm standing completely statuesque and I'm just staring at him as he moves towards me. But then eventually his lips are on mine and I find myself moving and moulding against him. All articulate thought seems to have vacated my mind. But then he tumbles back from me and for a moment we just look at each other breathlessly. His eyes are slightly glazed, his lips are red and moist and his cheeks are flushed. I find myself liking how he looks when he's been thoroughly snogged. Once I'm the one doing the snogging, of course.

Almost simultaneously we notice that we have an audience. Everyone in the Common Room, who probably represent about two thirds of Gryffindor House is staring at us. I can't even bring myself to care.

"Perhaps we should take this upstairs?" suggests Remus with a cheeky yet wholly seductive look I've never seen from him before. I want to see it again. In response to him I only manage to nod. The moment I do he grabs me and pushes me in the general direction of the stairs, which we miraculously succeed in getting up. Though, truthfully, I don't quite understand how we did accomplished this as we grinded, groped and fumbled our way up.

Once in the dormitories I can sense what's about to happen and it makes me nervous and hot all at the same time.

"I've never done before," I say, "with a bloke, I mean."

He grins at me almost predatorily. "I almost did," he says, "it didn't go exactly to plan, it was this guy I met during the Summer and well, he accidentally kicked me in the face. Superfluous as it is to say, it decidedly murdered the mood." In reply I just snicker, in what I can only hope is an attractive fashion. Sometimes the things he says or the attitude in which he says them is so unexpected and so, I dunno...but, it never fails to put me at ease, regardless of the situation. He's still grinning at me, in a nearly, wolfish manner. Fuck. It's just sinking in that I'm about to have sex with Remus. I've never been more ridiculously frightened in my entire life, but, bloody hell, I wasn't placed in Gryffindor for nothing. And with that sentiment, I drag my shirt up and over my shoulders and I fling it to the ground. Then I advance on him. I guess it's time for those fireworks.

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Review please?** I will be ****muchly**** obliged to you.**** And if you do, this time I'd like to know your thoughts on commuting**** – and even if you don't want to tell me your thoughts on commuting, you should still review. You know that inside you're absolutely itching to****... Commuting for me:**** I have an hour and a half commute to Dublin each day, and then the same to get home. And due to my getting ****of**** the train at peak hours, I never get a seat. And the train's always delayed. ****And packed chocker-block full of people who stare, molest and shove you throughout the journey.**** And what's worse, it's not like I get a salary to supplement my commuting. I do it just to get to school. Because education is important. Apparently. - Leaving Cert this year, eeeeeeek. I'm thinking of doing political science in Trinity. I need 545 points though, (out of 600. And getting the points all rides on a set of exams come June - this is a big deal. One of those, 'deciding factors of your future' big deals. But 545 is doable...Optimism). Today my train broke down and they, (well, the train driver), threw us out in the cold and rain, in the middle of what can be conceived as the countryside, to stand for two hours and wait for another train to come and pick us up. Unrelenting joy, as you can well imagine. Nothing forces people to bond quite like mutual distress. You can say what you want about dictators, but that Mussolini, he sure ****knew how to keep the trains running on time. So zounds!, my friends, if you share in my commuter misery, please share with me your own displeasure and tales of the horrors that are: trains, buses, the ****Luas****, (only really applicable in Ireland, I guess), the subway, the tube and so on...**

**Yes. That's my rant for the day over with.**


	3. Chapter 3

**My English teacher suspects that I don't have a pulse. My boyfriend who is not my boyfriend because of the minor inconvenience of his girlfriend thinks I'm a robot. And this concerns me. As if spontaneous combustion wasn't enough of a worry already. Enjoy the ****update,**** sorry it was such a long time coming.**

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"Well that went well," I said, slightly awkwardly. 

"You kicked me in the face."

"Well, yes, essentially. Yes, I did."

"Quite. Why do I _always_ get kicked in the face?" He's unconsciously pouting while he saying that. Merlin he's adorable.

"It was your own fault."

"And how is that so?"

"It could be considered as an error in judgement, really. Your skull was far too close to my crotch whilst I was removing my trousers. Simple really," I grin at him, hoping his response will be jovial and we can just forget about that minor indiscretion on my behalf. I can't believe I kicked him. I'm blushing just thinking about it.

"Charming," he replies, "what a lovely thing to say to your boyfriend."

"Am I?"

Oh good grief, please tell me that I am. I can't begin to explain the emotions and sensations I felt when Remus said the 'B' word – in reference to me, of course. Obviously, I've heard him say it before, but it was never _that_ big a deal. Sure, it was Remus saying it and that was pretty special but now that he was using it as a term to refer to me by? It was somewhat wondrous. To be honest, - and I ridicule myself for even thinking it, - in all my years at Hogwarts, in all my years as a wizard, I had never heard anything more magical.

"Are you what?"

"Your boyfriend?"

"Of course," he replies condescendingly, rolling his eyes. But, by this time I'm too far gone with ecstasy to reply. I'm too busy being a cliché – my heart is soaring, my pulse is racing, I've got butterflies, goose bumps and palpitations and then I'm knocked back to Earth by Remus cuffing my head and looking at me in consternation.

"Honestly, Sirius," he says, "you act like nobody's ever declared you to be their boyfriend before."

This just might be one of the most defining moments of my life. I'm in Remus's bed, with Remus, nonetheless, and we're completely in each other's space, our faces inches from touching, wrapped up in a splayed maze of limbs and trading banter. I've never been so satisfied. And I don't just mean sexually.

"None near as beautiful you." I reply, insipidly sentimentally.

"Naturally," he says and then he snorts. He snorts. Merlin help me, he snorts and I find it to be tantalizing attractive. I may have a problem. It's not fair how much more in tune he is than me with this whole situation. Damn him and his damnable calmness. I'm Sirius Black, everything should come easily to me but...in a way, I'm sort of glad Remus is taking the lead, it gives me the opportunity to find my footing in a world I'm not used to and it allows me to see an inner confidence of Remus's not many others do. Hardness and anger is a land I can defeat anyone in, but this softness, this _romance_, it's not familiar territory. At least not yet. And I am trying.

"I still can't believe you kicked me," he says softly yet he glares at me, accusingly.

"_The course of true love never did run smooth_."

"Did you just quote Shakespeare to me?"

"Yes."

"Well, you shouldn't," he mocks sternly, "not unless you're ready to stop the post-coital bliss and begin round two."

"You know if I knew all I had to do, to get you into bed with me was quote good old Billy Shakespeare, I would've done so a long time ago," I joke.

"Quote to me some more," he smiles.

"_O __Remeo, __Remeo__, wherefore art thou __Remeo__? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; __Or__ if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I'll no longer be a Black_."

"_Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this_," He responds and then he snorts again and I swiftly beginning to love that sound. "Another quote maestro, if you will."

"I can't think of anything relevant," I whisper gently and nudge my nose against his in a way that would make me cringe if I was with anyone but Remus. He leans further into, a feat I would've thought impossible and instructs me to tell him another quote, relevant or not. I can't help but oblige and mentally I pledge to go to the library and find some applicable quotes to put to use in future situations similar to this one.

"_What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god_."

"Thank you," he says and he edges his mouth towards mine and gently glides his fingers down my bare chest, "and just don't kick me in the face this time." I can't see him grinning but I can feel it, if that makes sense. I grin in response.

"Give me a break," I murmur, "it was my first time making the sex with the boy."

"You did good, Pads, real good," he assures me and I release a lot of nervous energy as a result.

"Yeah?" I say.

"Yeah. Even with a few minor mishaps it was pretty close to perfect. And nothing goes entirely smoothly on the first go, that's what practice is for."

"Smashing. You weren't so bad yourself, you know." He's laughing now at my obvious understatement. He probably knows just as well as I do that every time he touched me I was captured in his rapture. He had me writhing and wriggling, moaning and mewling. Impossible, improbable and implausible as it may seem, Remus Lupin, the renowned bookworm, chivalrous and seemingly all-around innocent guy is the first person to ever bring me to my knees like this. And I mean that somewhat literally. He continues to surprise me and I guess that's one of his most alluring qualities, I've been his friend for years and there's so much about him that I'm still learning and I find that I've yet to be disappointed by a single characteristic of his. Because every single one of them, even the negative ones, they all make him, him.

"And Remus?" I say, interrupting his quiet laughter.

"Yes, Sirius?" he replies, good-naturedly.

"It would be great if you didn't tell James that I bottomed."

And then I hear that snort that I love.

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